


time moves so slow

by MakerOfAnarchy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M, army!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakerOfAnarchy/pseuds/MakerOfAnarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>weeks go by, and he still doesn't phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have no clue how the army works. i went off of lingo i've heard, and i think it's kind of accurate, but please ignore mistajes! this is super, super, super AU, and i told myself i wouldn't write stuff like this but the anonymous asked me, so i delivered! the next part is longer (not by much tho)!

When Chris has bad days, Chris has _bad_ days.

They’re not forget-your-lunch-at-home bad, or get-stuck-in-traffic bad, no, his bad days are like a combination of those things. He’ll wake up late and then forget his cell phone and then he’ll turn around and get stuck in traffic trying to get said cell phone and then his cat will get out and he spends time chasing it and, yeah, his days can really suck.

And the worst part is, Chris is a one to dwell on things, a grudge holder, a nostalgic person at heart so when he has a bad day it usually turns into a bad _week_ , and Chris finds himself moping every moment he’s not onscreen. Everyone around him usually stays out of his way during these weeks, Ashley bringing him coffee and sitting quietly or Lea kissing him on the cheek and squeezing his arm before retreating. They all know what would make his week better, what would make Chris all around happier, but the situation is entirely out of their hands, as well as Chris’. All they can do is bring him coffee or kiss his cheek and try not to say too much to him or look too sympathetic because that turns into pity and if there’s one thing Chris does not need, it is pity.

They can shower him with love and affection all they want but the one person he really wants it from is miles and miles and miles away and he feels the distance especially hard every time those bad days flare into bad weeks like disgusting break outs. Darren is so far away and they only talk once a week, how can he not feel bad?

Chris does cherish their weekly (sometimes less, rarely more) phone calls where they can talk for basically as long as they want, until Darren is obligated to go. Chris enjoys the stories Darren tells him about his department, doing funny things and making the most out of a situation that sucks. Listening to the smile that always laces Darren voice, even when he sounds bone tired, even when Chris can hear the underlying sadness.

And Chris knows that there are things Darren doesn’t tell him (“ _I want what time we have together to be special, not tainted by sad stories_.”) because they only have so long and so much time together every call, and it should be special.

But with Darren, it always is.

They met and became best friends and then lovers in the span of four days (what else could Chris do but fall in love when he had an adorable man attached to his hand, looking happy to be there and smiling like he’d be okay as long as he _stayed_ there?) and all by accident. Chris doesn’t have enough fingers to count how many times he’s been told that four days isn’t _nearly_ enough time to become so attached, and that Chris should _really get his priorities straight, you can’t let a man dictate your life, Chris._

But he doesn’t let people get to him, because he can’t. He has his own worries and voices in his head. There’s always that niggling thought in the back of his mind: what if one day Darren just stops calling, because he can’t? Because he’s so hurt or, worse, gone, that he can’t get to a phone? He’s been living with this fear and worry for so long now (24 months April), it’s a part of him.

And Chris thinks is it worth it? Going day by day, wondering and worrying and being _so_ afraid that he’ll lose something genuinely important to him – is that really worth it?

They ask him how he does it or why he does it and Chris wants to say it’s because he buries himself in his work (which is partially true), or because he has friends that distract him (they try, but it’s so hard to let people in) and Chris thinks that it’s all of those things plus because Darren makes him so _happy_ , it is worth it.

And Chris doesn’t let anyone dictate his life. When he isn’t talking to Darren he has friends (who don’t get him, but he still loves them) and a life and a job he loves and he’s starting more projects and his career is moving forward but – sometimes he has weeks, and during those weeks he knows the only thing that will make him feel better is the sound of Darren’s voice, tinny and tired over a line but still _there_ and so whole and good. He loves Darren because he brings optimism and joy to Chris’ sarcasm and (sometimes) cynicism, because maybe it was a little hard to have fun before those four days.

Because Darren’s phone calls always have him laughing and smiling even once he’s off the phone, and that joy stays with him and flares up whenever he thinks about Darren, even on his bad weeks.

\---

It’s one of those weeks, but this time it’s maybe a little bit Darren’s fault. He hadn’t called him Sunday night like he usually did, like he promised he would the time before.

Chris has to worry. But he moves on because it’s not the first time it’s happened, and it won’t be the last.

They’ll talk next week.

\---

Next week comes.

A phone call does not.

\--

By the third week, Chris is barely leaving his house. He’s messing up his lines at every turn and his book is falling apart and he just _doesn’t want_ to eat, and he sees the worried looks from his friends – he sees every glance and he feels the pity in every touch and every word they hesitantly say, and they mean well, they do, but they’re not helping.

\---

At the fourth week Chris has taken an official vacation from work that he’s technically not supposed to do, but they seem happy to see him go because he’s not much use right then is he?

\---

“If you don’t open this door right now Chris, I swear on every pair of boots I own that I will hire a bodybuilder to break down the door and make _you_ pay the fines!”

Chris ignores the shouted threat from Lea, grips his phone a little tighter in his hand, closes his eyes and lets the tears fall onto the fingers wrapped around the phone.

\---

Nobody is dictating his life, but when you feel like you’re dying, when you feel like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and sent on a plane to somewhere you do not know – what are you to do?

Moving on is not so easy.

\---

At the fifth week he’s back at work, and he thinks he’s maybe surviving. Except he wouldn’t know, because he’s kind of lost feeling in his hands.

\--


	2. Chapter 2

The worst part is, without a doubt, not knowing.

Nobody has contacted him. Nobody has showed up – he doesn’t know anything about where Darren is, if he’s really gone or if he’s missing or if he’s been – god forbid – taken capture or anything.

Chris let’s his imagination run wild, and the next thing he knows he’s writing a story, he’s pouring his heart into his fingers, trying to convey how he feels to everyone who doesn’t understand.

He publishes it, on a little blog he has but doesn’t really pay attention to, one no one pays attention to until _Glee Star Chris Colfer Tells All in Heartbreaking Account_ , until there is profit to be made.

People comment, people sympathize. He gets some accounts from people that tell him he’s brave, that tell him they _understand_ , because they’ve been through it, and those stories from people make him cry ugly tears of relief because he is not _alone_.

(Some say hateful things about him and Darren and what Darren does, some say he’s doing it for profit, some say he’s a sell out and Chris has to shut his laptop and give it to his manager so he doesn’t read and retaliate.)

But he reads the wonderful words sent in by people through his fan-mail, and he shudders because as much as he doesn’t want to, he’ll get over it.

But he does not give up hope, because if he does that, what will he have?

 ---

(“ _The worst part is not knowing. As I’m sure anybody who has been this knows, not knowing and waiting, knowing that the tables could be turned either way at anytime is what makes the cement settling in your gut the worst. Is he alive? Is he safe? Is he gone?_

_Will he ever come back?_

_Darren had told me, the last time we talked that he was thinking of coming home, instead of going on another tour. Because he missed me. Because he wanted to start our life together, because he wanted to be home, with me, with normalcy and happiness._

_Should I move on? Probably. This isn’t healthy, right? Hoping isn’t healthy, right?_

_But I don’t care. I will hope and pray for years on end, as long as he calls me. I will never forget him, even if eventually I think I am able to forgive him for leaving me when he said he wouldn’t._

_I will do anything, for him to just come home. I will do anything to have a reason to pick up the phone._

_Darren, I don’t know where you are and it seems like no one else does, but if you stumble across this for whatever reason, I want you to know that._

_I will do anything to be able to love you like before.”)_

\--

It’s not like Chris planned to fall in love with a rogue soldier in four days.

The first day, when they met, they hit it off and Chris thought maybe he’d just be a good friend in the future as they sat down to lunch together. And then night fell and Chris realized, he’d just made a _best_ friend, didn’t he?

The next day, Chris had realized he’d _somehow_ managed to manifest a crush, because, wow, this guy was really amazing, wasn’t he?

The third day is when Darren had kissed him, taking him by the cheeks mid-sentence because, in Darren’s words, “ _You just looked so damn cute_.” Because Darren had thought he’d looked cute, thought he looked good enough to kiss even as he ranted over something insignificant like why he didn’t have enough time to ever visit the zoo.

The fourth day is when Darren kissed him and didn’t stop, when Chris let him put his hands on him and take him to bed because, “ _Things are changing and I don’t want you to forget that I’m here.”_

The morning of the fifth day is when Darren left, and though Chris knew it was happening he still felt like someone had kicked him in the gut when he saw the tears in his eyes as he kissed him one last time and made his way onto the plane. Chris hadn’t stopped waving, trying to push back his own tears because he knew Darren knew he’d cry later.

Of course, Chris doesn’t tell him he’s in love with him. In fact, he doesn’t even realize it until two days passed and he’s wondering when Darren will call, even though he’s probably not even in his station yet.

\---

People parting ways for him was something he was used to, now. They always seemed to split like the Red Sea when he walked through a crowd, and he wishes he could tell them to turn their pitying looks to a dying dog, not him, because he’s _fine_.

Chris has blocked them out by now, and it’s because of that today when he walks into work he doesn’t notice how different their looks are. Gone are the pitying tears or the sympathetic hands, gone are the uneasy shuffling are feet. Instead there’s secretive smiles are fingers crossed and someone laughs, but Chris does not hear.

He’s on his way to his trailer, so he can start one more day of work. One more day of getting by.

\---

The first thing he feels when he hears a knock on his trailer door is dissatisfaction. He wants to be left alone to get ready, try to immerse himself in the haughty headspace of Kurt Hummel, where it doesn’t hurt nearly as bad.

But he gets up and goes to the door anyways, leans on it and calls, “Who is it?”

There’s a pause and then, “It’s so rude to talk to people through the door, babe. That’s not the Chris I know.”

That voice Chris hasn’t heard in so long, it nearly sounds foreign. But no, it’s still smooth and he’s still using that special voice just for him, deeper and quieter, lulling and beautiful. Tears are already falling as he turns around and yanks open the door, knowing with everything in him that if his mind is just playing tricks on him that that’s it – that’s the end of everything he loves.

But then, there he is. Standing there with a gigantic bouquet of dark red and white roses, and wide, earnest eyes that are so full of love, and Chris can’t do it, he starts _sobbing,_ breaking down on the steps of his trailer in the arms of a man he’d thought he’d lost. His shoulders drop and he sags forward and Darren drops the roses between their feet to catch him and the feel of his strong, warm arms around him floods Chris’ stomach with relief so heavy. He brings his hands up to clutch at Darren’s shoulders, his back, his neck, his hair, and he doesn’t even care he’s crying in the middle of a lot, he just cares that Darren is there, there with him.

He’s babbling, asking questions, “What – how – where were you – _please_ …” Things he knows aren’t making sense but Darren pets at his hair and back and waist and shushes him, “Shh, I know, I know, I’m so sorry Chris, I’ll explain everything just stop crying, please.”

Chris shakes his head because _how_ , how can he stop crying when everything feels so good, yet so bad at the same time? How can he, when Darren is still being so gentle and caring even after all this time, easing them both into the trailer and closing the door, supporting all of Chris’ weight.

Darren eases Chris to the couch in his trailer, and he tries to pull away but Chris gasps and squeezes tighter, crying even harder, “No, no, _please_ don’t leave me again.”

Darren nods against his head and goes with Chris to the couch, lying on top of him and Chris _drowns_ in everything Darren, tears still rolling down his cheeks. He’s short of breath and his stomach is tight, and he gasps, because it’s suddenly way too much, but he can’t let Darren leave.

Darren pulls back and looks at him, he knows, but Chris has his eyes closed, trying to soak up everything even as he feels like his stomach is going to fall out.

“Chris, Chris, I need you to open your eyes,” Darren calls, and Chris manages to hear it through the haze, somehow. “I think you’re having a panic attack, and unless you calm down you’re going to the hospital.”

The words are clear in Chris ears, and he opens his eyes and tries to take deep breaths. His eyes lock on Darren’s and Darren smiles, “Look at _me,_ I’m fine. I’m _fine_ , and so are you. Thank you so much for not losing hope, Chris. That means the world to me.”

It takes awhile, but he calms down enough to reply, his face pressed into Darren’s neck as he breathes deeply, inhaling in the scent he had missed so, and whispers into his neck, “I could never lose hope on you.”


End file.
